


The One Where They Work At Medieval Times

by Cactiintheminorkey



Category: Xena: Warrior Princess
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Lady Knights, Medieval Times AU, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:28:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23369221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cactiintheminorkey/pseuds/Cactiintheminorkey
Summary: Gabrielle loves nothing more than her knight on her knees.
Relationships: Gabrielle/Xena
Comments: 5
Kudos: 63





	The One Where They Work At Medieval Times

If you’ve never had a knight on her knees before you, you haven’t lived. 

She looked up at me and offered me her rose, holding out the dark flower wrapped in red ribbon, a perfect parody of her position this morning. I smiled, gracious, and tucked the flower behind my ear, trying to keep my face under control, trying not to feel that ache that had settled between my thighs and stayed since the morning. The crowd cheered. 

Another day at Medieval Times. 

This morning, she’d run her fingers up my legs, using the very tips of them, almost tickling, her touch was so light. She’d stopped at my thighs, smoothing her fingers down the outside of my legs, over my goosebumps, before closing her eyes and leaning in. 

There was nothing I loved so much as the first brush of her lips when she leaned in. She liked to hover right above my clit, so close I could feel her hot breath, teasing me until I wiggled or tugged her hair or occasionally begged. 

This morning, we were already late to work and she only paused for one beautiful, frozen moment before she leaned in and enveloped me. I moaned just a little, without meaning to, and clenched my hand in her short curls. Knights had short hair, she had told me seriously, right before we got together, and I had laughed at her. 

Knights had any sort of hair they wanted to, I’d told her, citing Heath Ledger. Princesses as well. 

But that thought dissolved under her tongue, refracting into nonsense with the rest of my thoughts. 

Today, now, I watched her walk away. I’d slid my fingers down her ass this morning, giving it a nice squeeze. Now, I smiled demurely at the crowd. They were a blur to me. 

Somebody nearby ooohed enviously, saying they wanted to be a princess. It was as likely to be a drunk college girl as an actual child. 

Mainly, I’d gotten to play the princess because I was tall enough to fit into the old princess’s dress. She’d left for grad school to study Middle English. I was far less equipped than her when it came to historical accuracy but I was a better actor. 

I had to be. It was company policy that employees could not date – I believe a previous princess had hurled a flagon at some guest who were flirting with her waiter beau – and 

I treated my knight with a studied indifference during the off hours and calculated swooning when in public. We needed to wait. 

Seeing her smile had made me wet since the first day I met her and I’d become accustomed to at least attempting to avoid showing that on my face. I curled my fingers around the rose, color rising in my face. We needed to be careful. 

My fingers idly traced the ribbon wrapped around the stem of the rose. Red. It meant she couldn’t wait. 

I found her in the stables after. I peeked around the wooden doors and then stole in, the long hem of my dress trailing. There was a game we liked to play on the nights that she gave me the rose with the red ribbon. I would play the princess and she my stable boy, my aspiring knight. 

But now, seeing the line of her back in the dim light, I didn’t know how long I would be able to play or how well I would be able to act. 

She was standing by her horse, giving him a little extra alfalfa for his speed and obedience. The stable was half-lit, empty, and the floor was strewn with dust. Watching the muscles move in her arms made my thighs clench with want. I picked up the edge of my dress so I could walk silently, placing my feet carefully until I was just behind her. 

She turned around as I got to her. She must have heard me, must have been waiting. 

“You shouldn’t have come,” she said. She curled an arm around my waist and steered me towards the empty stall, pushing me into a pile of loose, sweet-smelling hay. 

I picked a piece out of my hair, lifted my chin. “How dare you treat a princess like this?” My voice was just a little too loud and she glanced frantically at the door. 

“Quiet, please,” she said, bending over me. I reached up and pulled her down on top of me, her palms hitting the hay on either side of me. 

I curled my fingers around her wrists and raised an eyebrow. “Quiet?” I said, still too loudly. 

She kissed me, stopping any explanation I might have made. I loved the way she kissed. I parted my lips, letting her tongue in, and ran my hands down her back. 

She nipped at my ear, tugging the lobe gently between her teeth. “If you want to do this, you have to be quiet.” 

She liked me imperious, demanding, but she was also tugging my dress up, sliding a hand up my leg to rest on my hip, her thumb firm and strong in the hollow by my hipbone. I couldn’t concentrate well enough to remember my next line. 

There was a noise from the dusty back of the room and we both froze. We were both silent for nearly a minute, waiting, her thumb making steady sweeps of the skin over my hipbone, gentle and persistent enough that I could not forget her hand was there. 

Others rarely visited the stables at this time of night but we couldn’t be discovered like this, my dress around my hips, her hands all over me. 

Finally, she bent her head to my neck, grazed it with her teeth before speaking. “I think they’re gone.” 

I shivered. “Touch me,” I said. Before her, I had thought dirty talk must be fancy but around her, all I could feel was need. 

She flipped us over so I straddled her, her hair golden against the hay. I ran a hand through it, kissed her as she trailed her fingers up my inner thigh, felt her smile against my mouth as her fingers lingered at the border of my underwear. 

I moved my hips, feeling the barely-there sensation of the tips of her fingers, chasing the sensation of her hands on me. 

“What’s your pleasure, princess?” she breathed, mouth still inches from my own. It was supposed to sound deferential but I could feel her smirk. 

From the moment I had felt her fingers brush against me – no, from the moment I’d saw her knock Rick off his horse with her lance and then, trotting past, meet my eyes through her visor, from the moment she’d taken her mouth off me this morning and I’d gasped as the alarm clock rang its final warning, I’d known what I wanted. 

“Fuck me,” I told her, commanded her – and some days, I could command but today, wet and aching for hours, it came out a plea. 

She slid two fingers inside me and I hid my face in her shoulder, muffling the noise I made against her tunic. She smelled like sweat and metal and leather. I rocked back into her hand, slid my hands under her shirt, pushed up her sports bra so I could play with her nipples. 

It wasn’t enough, not any of it. I pushed her shirt up and replaced my hand with my mouth. She slid another finger into me and I shuddered around her, against her, choking back noises as I flicked my tongue against her nipple, hard and fast. 

Somehow, without me noticing, she’d pulled down the front of my dress and had one of my breasts in her hand, squeezing the nipple beneath her fingers so that I felt a pain so faint and thrilling that it made my entire body flush. 

I shuddered as she brushed her thumb over my clit, biting her shoulder without meaning to, just hard enough to make her shiver in return, to cause a hitch in the steady motion of her fingers as she fucked me. 

I bit her again, harder, and slid a hand into her pants, smiling when I felt wetness against my fingers. She drew in a quick breath, sounded ragged – she never made much noise in bed and I counted each gasp as a victory. 

I circled my fingers around her clit, so slow and soft I nearly wasn’t touching her. She didn’t endure teasing as well as I did – had it been my mouth, her clit, this morning, we would have been late to work. 

We made a game of it often, her going fast and hard enough to break my concentration. With her inside me, it was impossible to think of anything but her fingers. She bent them, slightly, touched something inside me that made me flush with sudden, consuming heat. 

She pulled my head down, kissed me hard. “Don’t make noise.” 

I slid my fingers directly over her clit, just hard enough to make her gasp again. “Don’t tell me what to do.” 

Sometimes, I forgot that she spent much of her day riding horses and lifting things, that the delightful muscles that rippled on her arms were more than just decoration placed there for my enjoyment. 

Which is to say, she curled her free hand around my waist and flipped us over, pressing me down into the softness of the hay. I cried out as her fingers went deeper and wrapped my legs around her waist. 

She pushed my skirt all the way up to my hips, leaving my legs bare, and took one of my breasts into her mouth, flicking the nipple with her tongue so hard and fast it made me squirm. I raked my hands down her back, leaving angry red scratches in the places her tunic would cover. 

This egged her on, made her go harder and faster, and I could feel myself tightening around her fingers. 

I tried to pull her in for a kiss and she leaned back, teasing. 

“I think it’s time for me to finish what I started,” she said. 

“Please,” I begged fervently. She kissed her way down my stomach and hovered her mouth over my clit. I could feel her breath on me, so close, and I buried my hands in the hay, resisting the urge to grab her curls and pull her closer. 

Finally, finally, she put her mouth on me, licking my clit with a long, leisurely strokes. I squirmed against her tongue and she closed her eyes and drew me closer, flicking me with her tongue as she fucked me, each stroke bringing me closer and closer. My skin began to prickle and my temperature rose. I grasped at the hay, trying not to twitch my hips, trying not to whimper. She curled her fingers inside me, and I felt so full, so overcome. She ran her tongue around my clit, then directly over it, bearing down until I shuddered against her fingers, bringing a hand up to my mouth to stop the noises. 

I thumped my head back into the hay, gasping, and she kissed my thigh, pausing for a moment to listen for noise outside. But the stable was quiet, with no other sound than the shuffle of sleepy horses and cars on the freeway far outside. 

I curled up against her for just a moment, then tugged my dress back over my breasts and legs. 

“You’ve made me scandalous,” I told her. 

She laughed at me. “You were already scandalous.” She pinched my butt and I pushed her deeper into the hay. 

“Want me to show you how much?” 

She raised an eyebrow at me. She’d rolled off me and lay next to me, arms crossed behind her head, the very picture of an insouciant stableboi. I could never resist her raised eyebrows, her challenges. 

“You distracted me before,” I said. 

“Your life is very hard – “ she said, or tried to say, words trailing off as I slid my hands under her shirt and ran my fingers down her stomach, stopping with my thumb just brushing her clit. 

She doesn’t like oral as much as I do, I learned that through trial and error, but she liked it when I talked to her, so I started to touch her, moving my fingers in slow circles, gradually increasing in speed, and put my mouth up to her ear. 

“You looked so handsome today,” I told her, “all I could think about was touching you.” I started to describe the things I wanted her to do to me, both the dark and the mundane, the spankings and the tickling and the way I wanted to taste her, the way I wanted to bury my face in her neck while she fucked me, the way I loved the noises she was making, little gasps, high tight sounds, until she arched into me as she came. 

I let her rest for a moment, then drew my hand out of her pants and helped her up. 

“Let’s go home and do that again?” I asked with a smirk. 

She slung an arm around my waist. “Next time you're the knight.” 

“I make a mean knight,” I told her. 

She laughed and led me out of the stable, into the light of the streetlamps. “I’m counting on it.”

**Author's Note:**

> I absolutely cannot concentrate on grad school right now and so I'm writing smut. Suggestions for what to write next appreciated...I'm feeling f/f and strap-ons?


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